


Blank space

by hope_calaris



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/pseuds/hope_calaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey’s off to search for Luke Skywalker, Finn’s hovering somewhere between healing sleep and coma, and Poe ...( Poe’s forgotten the color of his mother’s eyes).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I haven't written anything in ... two years? And I have a newborn home, who demands nearly all my attention (and nearly all of my sleep, so please try to ignore most of the typos), but I really loved the new movie and I'll try my hardest to update soon.

_We're gonna get it, get it together, I know_  
_Gonna get it, get it together and float_  
_Gonna get it, get it together and go_  
_Up and up and up_

\- Up & Up by Coldplay

 

Rey’s off to search for Luke Skywalker, Finn’s hovering somewhere between healing sleep and coma, and Poe ...( Poe’s forgotten the color of his mother’s eyes).

It’s nothing that he’s aware of, it’s a miniscule detail, unimportant among the grief and exhaustion that permeates the base in the wake of the Starkiller’s destruction. Life goes on, because of course it does, they set one foot in front of the other since by now Poe believes they’ve forgotten how to stop. He sometimes wonders if General Organa yearns for the peace and quiet of a civilian life or if she would feel afloat, drifting in a reality not meant for her.

War is not the only reality Poe’s ever known; he remembers the tranquility of sitting under the old Force tree back home, the sun filtering through the leaves, splashing sprinkles on his skin not yet marked by too many close calls and age. He remembers the soft laughter of his father and the quiet strength of his mother. He remembers peace.

(But he doesn’t remember the color of his mother’s eyes anymore.)

He sits at Finn’s bedside and waits for ... _something_ , he doesn’t know. For Finn to wake up, of course, but maybe for something else as well. He’s afraid to put a name to it, like he’s afraid to go back to his bunk when the night falls. He still goes, but nothing awaits him there but sleepless darkness or nightmares he tries his hardest to forget. He’s Poe Dameron, best pilot of the Resistance, he can’t afford to to be afraid. What’s left of his squad is afraid, he can see it in their faces, the unease lingering behind tired eyes and in the way they leave certain chairs empty during briefings - yet another reminder of how much, how _many_ they lost. And when his squad is afraid, and the ground staff and most of the people running the Resistance, he can’t afford to be afraid as well. People depend on him.

They’ve destroyed the Starkiller, yes, but it won’t matter in the long run. They've prolonged their survival, but they didn’t secure it. Not yet. Hux is still out there. Phasma is. A lot more Stormtroopers than he can count, and ... he doesn’t want to think about who else is out there.

He doesn’t have to think about anything once Finn wakes up for real. Finn is gasping for breath, trying to walk on shaky legs and cursing and planning to go after Rey, sometimes all at once, but it only means he’s alive; that there’s one person less Poe has to be afraid of losing and it makes his heart ache in a way he’s not entirely too sure is a good sign.

(He doesn’t remember that the torn jacket on Finn’s nightstand in medical once belonged to him.)

Finn asks if he’s okay and of course he says he is. He’s alive after all. No one tried to sever his spine, no one tried to turn him to the Dark Side. Pilot’s are always okay because if they’re not, then they’re most likely dead, shot down from an unforgiving sky or turned into dust in the uncaring night of space.

So he does what he always does; he helps the General putting strategies together, he leads his squad into fights, jokes with Pava, assists Snap working on his figther’s engine, cleans BB-8. He eats and breathes and walks and talks ... and dreams. Not often, sleep is something he not _actively_ tries to forego -- he can’t fly on no sleep for too long after all -- but it happens none the less. Too often. Sleep is ... hard. It’s not even that he’s surprised who he sees in his dreams, he expected nothing else. He’s seen enough, is realist enough to know that torture follows you home, it’s nothing you can get rid of with a shake of your head or sheer force of will. And he’s endured worse than most on the base.

What really unsettles him is the feeling when he wakes up from one of these nightmares. The darkness around him always lingers for a while, and once he’s got himself under control again -- breathe, Poe, in, out, you know the drill, the shaking will be over soon -- he feels like something is ... less right than before, but he can’t put his finger on it.

(He doesn’t remember how he first met BB-8 anymore.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently babies don't need sleep. Who knew, right? Anyway, here's the update, sorry for the wait. And thanks to Claire for the beta, any mistakes left are my very own. Enjoy!

He looks like shit. Finn says as much between cursing the physiotherapist and asking yet again if Rey’s contacted the base. She hasn’t, and Poe knows how he looks. He has to use the mirror to shave, thank you very much. He never remembers the nightmares anymore, is just left with the impression of pain and a loneliness so all-encompassing he actually has to  _ see  _ other people to shake the feeling. It would make anyone look haunted, probably even General Organa, and that’s not a thought Poe wants to give a closer look. He can’t fathom what it means to lose not only your husband but your child as well. Just the vague idea of it makes him feel like his heart left his body and the empty space in its stead turned into a dark hole. He has no idea how that woman is still standing, let alone leading a fight that clearly leaves them outnumbered and with little hope. 

He adores her a bit more each day.

(He doesn’t remember her first words to him anymore.)

Finn wants to know if Poe wants to talk about ... anything -- the Finalizer, Kylo Ren, how does it feel to have your mind ripped apart? --, but when Poe opens his mouth he doesn’t know what to say or where to even begin, unformed words stuck to his tongue. It would be easy to tell Finn he’s okay, he thinks; Finn, who trusted him with his life the second they met, who was so happy to see him alive again, who doesn’t have a reason to suspect Poe’s hiding something from him. And he isn’t, not really, because whatever it is he feels whenever he looks at Finn, he can’t put a name to it yet. So there’s really no reason to bother him with it. In the end, Poe just shakes his head and tries to smile when he sees the worry in his buddy’s eyes.

He imagines he can still feel the worry, like tiny pinpricks on every square of his skin, when he’s out flying again. It’s nothing ambitious or even dangerous, just a maneuver training near the base with what’s left of his squad. It takes their minds off the people they’ve lost, just having to push buttons and follow the flight pattern they all know like the back of their hands. 

It should be easy, and it is. Flying has always come to Poe as a gift he hadn’t asked for, but was a perfect fit for him nevertheless. He doesn’t remember a time when a ship hasn’t felt like another part of him, coming alive under his fingers. That’s why he can fly anything, his mother once said, because to him flying is just another puzzle piece of being alive, as natural as breathing. That’s why he could fly the TIE figther and even take out half of Finalizer’s weapons. He just knows what to do.

Which is why it comes as a complete surprise to him when they begin their landing approach and he has absolutely no idea what to do. His fingers hover over the buttons and none of them mean anything to him. 

_ None. _

He has crashlanded before, it comes with the territory, no matter how good or how fast you are. You can’t win every fight, and engines malfunction sometimes. 

But never  _ this _ . He’s never been unsure before, there’s never been a second of hesitation once he’s sat down in a cockpit. 

“Dameron, what the fuck?” Pava’s voice sounds over the com. “You’re going way too fast for landing!”

_ I know, _ he wants to shout,  _ I know and I can’t do anything about it _ . He doesn’t say anything, though. Once again he can’t find the words --  _ how does it feel to have your mind ripped apart? _ \-- He has no answers, just silence. He stares at the treetops coming near at a speed he’d usually find thrilling, but this time there’s no exhilaration, no adrenaline rush, just the surprisingly detached acceptance that he’s going to die. 

He closes his eyes and thinks,  _ I’m sorry _ .


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments! I'm sorry updates are slow, but that's just how it is with a baby.

Poe’s never had any expectations about life after death. You die, life ends, that’s it.

He certainly didn’t expect it to be bright lights hurting his eyes, a cacophony of voices overwhelming his hearing and for there to be so much pain.

He remembers having felt this much pain before, though. He remembers cold steel and a single question repeated a thousand times over. He remembers thinking _No_ over and over again ... he remembers it being a futile attempt when his mind was invaded and twisted until he felt like his self was bleeding out of him.

It takes him a long moment to realize that just maybe he’s not as dead as he thought he’d been.

“Huh,” he mutters, and even that hurts.

“Oh, thank the Force,” he hears someone say, and he thinks he knows that voice. It reminds him of hope among all that pain, of desert sand and torn jackets, of trust he can’t explain, but is just sure of right down to his bones.

(He doesn’t remember falling asleep again to someone holding his hand.)

He wakes up and the pain is somewhat dulled. He even manages to open his eyes this time.

It’s when he croaks “FN-2187” with a smile on his face, so very relieved not to be alone in medical, and sees his buddy’s face fall that he slowly realizes something’s off. Even more off than landing himself in medical because he somehow forgot how to fly, and he still can’t get over that particular failure. Sometimes he even _dreams_ about flying -- about a black mask and holding on as long as you can and _don’t tell anything_ \-- and normally he knows which buttons to push and how to land with half his engines blown away, he knows how to do these things even in his sleep.

Normally.

Right now he doesn’t remember any of these things anymore, and it leaves him feeling cold and empty, like a tree too hollowed out to support itself anymore. He can’t see any use for himself when he can’t fly, it’s the only thing he knows.

“Poe, buddy, listen to me, you’re going to be okay. I promise,” FN-2187 insists, but there’s a tremor in his voice that he can’t entirely hide. Poe knows that tremor well; it took him ages to train himself out of it so that the people under his command wouldn’t know he was as scared as they were. The First Order probably doesn’t care if their stormtroopers are scared as long as they do their job, though, he thinks, and it makes his heart ache for his friend. Because that’s something he’s sure of right to his very core, the other man is his friend.

“I don’t remember your name anymore,” he finally whispers, afraid to speak it aloud.

“That’s okay, it’s a bit new anyway, but I really like it,” the other man replies, sporting a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m Finn. Do you remember me?”

Yes, Poe wants to say, of course, you saved me.  
  
(He just doesn’t remember how anymore.)


	4. Chapter 4

General Organa looks so tired and sad Poe actually wants to hug her to make her feel better.

“You’ve must have had the Force on your side, Poe,” she says quietly. It takes her a while to meet his eyes. “The doctors aren’t quite sure how exactly you managed to survive with most of you intact.”

He nods at her because he knows this part already. Lots of broken ribs, a concussion and internal bleeding, but nothing a quick intervention couldn’t fix. He’s incredibly lucky.

Lucky, but still broken.

“Doesn’t explain why I keep losing parts of my memory, General.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she sighs. “The scans show nothing wrong with your brain.”

“I know.”

He knows all of this already. What he doesn’t know is FN-2187’s real name, and, in a way, that hurts more than the broken ribs ever could.

“We will fix this,” the General states firmly after some silence -- like it’s her choice, like she has any power over his broken mind and can plug the hole in it that is making him lose more and more of himself. Poe believes in her strength and will to lead the Resistance, and he would follow her to the end of the galaxy, but he doesn’t think she can stitch his mind back together. He’s not sure anyone can.

Judging from the way the General looks at him, she’s not so sure either.

\---

“Rey will fix you,” FN-2187 explains to him later in the day. “And if she can’t, then Master Skywalker will.”

“They’re not here,” Poe points out the obvious.

“I know that,” his buddy rolls his eyes like that’s a fact easily corrected. “That’s why we’re flying to Ahch-To.”

And that’s just such a silly idea Poe has to laugh, even though it hurts like hell and brings tears to his eyes. “We can’t,” he eventually manages to get out.

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Poe shakes his head and tries to understand his buddy’s enthusiasm -- he fails. This is not some fairytale in which the benevolent fairy grants him all of his wishes and he rides off into the sunset together with the other man. This is harsh reality, and the sooner he faces and accepts it, the better for all of them. “Well, I don’t remember how to fly anymore, for starters. The Resistance can’t spare a ship, and Rey and Master Skywalker have better things to do than try to fix me -- you know, like trying to fix the galaxy. In the grand scheme of things I don’t -- ”

“Don’t,” FN-2187 interrupts him so vehemently that Poe instantly shuts up. “Don’t say you don’t matter,” he adds quietly in a pained voice. So Poe doesn’t, and instead he silently reproaches himself for being a jerk. He does remember that the other man used to be a Stormtrooper and that the First Order probably told all of them they didn’t matter, that they’re just a tiny part of something so much bigger and that they have to live and die for a cause none of them chose.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs and puts his hand over his buddy’s shaking one.

“Just … just give this a chance, okay? For me.”

Poe takes a painful breath, looks into FN-2187’s eyes and nods. He might not remember all of their shared past, and he might not even believe in their chances, but he can give this a shot. For the other man’s sake. And because he’d really like to remember the future they might have.

“Okay, let’s give this a chance,” he agrees. “But first, get a pen.”

FN-2187 looks at him like he’s gone crazy, and he thinks that’s a tad bit unfair, since he isn’t the one cooking up some half-assed plan to save his sanity.  FN-2187 still gets the pen, though.

“What’s this for?” He asks, and Poe smiles at him.

“If we’re doing this, I’m not going to keep calling you FN-2187,” he explains and holds out his wrist to the other man. “Write your real name down here so I can remember it.”

FN-2187 hesitates for a moment, probably thinking Poe’s gone off the deep end, but finally he relents and scribbles down his name. The tip of the pen tickles the sensitive skin on the inside of Poe’s wrist, but he doesn’t mind. It’s something real, something he can hold onto amid the ever-growing fear he feels whenever he searches for a name or a story he just can’t find anymore.

“Finn,” he reads aloud and smiles at the other man. “I like that name.”

“Me too,” Finn replies, and Poe can’t quite interpret that soft smile around his lips, but it makes him hope a little.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basically sitting right across Ahch-To (Skellig Michael, I'm on vacation in Ireland! \o/) right now, so there's no better motivation than that to continue writing this story. Sorry for the long wait, but you know ... living with a baby :). I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“I just want to state once again that this is a stupid-ass plan,” Poe says, leaning against the hull of the tiny transport shuttle they’re about to enter to fly to Ahch-To. “And I don’t know how you think any of us will survive this.”

“Just trust in the Force, it will work out,” Finn assures him -- and he still doesn’t remember the man’s name, but he’s gotten used to looking at his wrist every few minutes to remind himself. Sometimes, when he’s woken up from yet another nightmare he can’t remember, he gently touches the dark letters on his wrist. He images them to be some kind of promise ... of what, he doesn’t know.

“I think you still don’t know how the Force works, buddy,” Poe answers, amused. He really doesn’t think that they stand a chance of actually reaching the planet; every time he looks into a cockpit everything just looks more confusing, and this even though Finn had saved him because he needed a pilot, of all people. “The Force won’t fly the ship for us,” he adds, in case Finn’s forgotten that.

“I know, but I took some lessons with Pava and Snap, and the General agrees with me. She even gave us this shuttle. And we have BB-8.”

“Right,” Poe states, like some basic piloting lessons and an astro-droid will save them when the First Order detects them and shoots them from the sky. Poe doesn’t mind dying as much as taking the other man with him to his sure death. Finn’s death would be an unneccessary waste, but every time he tries to bring up that point he earns anoher hurt look from Finn, and he’s learned that that’s something he can really live without. He wants to see Finn happy and carefree, which is a weird thought, considering how short a time he’s known the other man. If this were happening at another time, when he wasn’t unraveling in front of the whole Resistance, then Poe thinks he’d do something about these feelings; he’s never been one to hesitate, after all. Yet right now, when he’s not even sure how much of himself is still left, he doesn’t think it’s fair to further explore whatever bond he has with Finn; in fact, it would be unfair to both of them. So all he can do right now is try to believe in Finn’s enthusiasm. He seems to have enough for the both of them.

“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Finn says, and Poe raises an eyebrow.

“You think? Did you check the external dampeners? Their settings tend to go all wonky after a bit,” Poe explains, and stops when Finn looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “What?”

“You remember stuff about this ship,” Finn points out.

“Oh, yes ... huh.” Poe starts to grin. “Guess there’s hope for me after all.”

“There’s always hope, Poe,” Finn says and smiles at him. Poe thinks he can feel his heart making a little jump, and he smiles back.

\---

The General sees them off, Pava hugs him for a really long time, Snap makes a lewd joke, and then they’re off, sitting next to each other in the tiny cockpit of the shuttle. Most of the switches don’t mean a thing to Poe, which is so unsettling at first that he has to focus on his breathing to get himself back under control. It also helps that Finn rests one hand on Poe’s jittery knee and tells him everything will be fine. Finn’s probably lying through his teeth, but Poe gives him points for trying.

“Probably not what you expected when you defected from the First Order, huh?”

“No,” Finn answers, and for a moment the truth hurts Poe. “I didn’t expect to make friends, to be honest-- I was always the outsider,” he adds. “No idea why you guys actually keep me around.”

“Because I like you, Finn,” Poe says without hesitation or thought. “I mean, you’re very likeable, as a person. You’re great. For the Resistance.” Poe snaps his mouth shut and wants to hit his head against the next available surface. _Smooth, Poe, really smooth_ , he thinks. Now he’s not only losing his memory, but his sanity, as well.   
  
Finn laughs, probably at him. “I like you, too, Poe,” he finally says with that soft smile around his lips, and Poe thinks that just maybe that thing between them will have a chance someday. But for right now, he’s content to wait and treasure that smile.


End file.
